


Paths and Their Founders

by Chilliam



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Pathfinder - Freeform, Quarians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 00:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chilliam/pseuds/Chilliam
Summary: Whispers of a new realm beyond the dark sea are all it took for the Lady Garson to send word to heroes from every land to join her Initiative. Her quest: to discover the wonders hidden in the realm of Andromeda.  Our story follows a ragtag team of explorers, heroes in their own right with much to lose and more to prove.  Join them as they brave the perils of the new world in search of glory, enlightenment, and the home they wish to see one day.





	Paths and Their Founders

Sole’Sor Vas Keelah Se’lai

 

Andromeda: a realm of dreams.  ‘Dream of it, and you’ll find it across the Dark Sea,’ so sayeth our sayers of sooth, ‘...for Andromeda is a land of promise, ripe for the taking.’ The prouder races found within these words a challenge.  For the Turians Andromeda is another land to spread their military might. To the Asari and Salarian Andromeda is a puzzle waiting to be solved, glory following whoever solves it first. The Humans, enamored by tales of discovery and adventure, see the realm of Andromeda as a stepping stone towards eternity, more kindling for the fires that fuel their legends.

We are nomads, and our dreams are of home. When our elders speak of home theirs is a vision shrouded in hushed tones of an oasis in the sands, held captive by our own creation. Maybe the reason why I was chosen to become our Pathfinder is that my vision of home is not one of a lost city overrun by Golem, but somewhere out there, in Androme-...

“Keelah!” Sole’Sor exclaimed, as a bump in the road sent her inkwell to tumbling, a black blanket stretched itself upon the scroll she was writing in, rendering her scrawling useless.  “So much for posterity,” she scowled, gloved fingers slick with ink.  Crumpling the paper in a clenched fist, she tosses it into a pile of her earlier works, similarly disposed of.  She pinches the bridge of her nose, tenderly.  “If I have to spend one more day in this wheelhouse I’ll go mad!”

“I know,” replied a voice from the other side of the room, “you said the same thing every day for the past week!” To the untrained eye, Sole’s mother, Zaele, would be indistinguishable from a pile of blankets.  she sat, cross-legged upon a pillow, aging eyes peering from the folds of her hood, “you have something, right here,” she motioned a gloved hand to her own nose.  “This is not my day, mother” Sole sighs, her eyes downcast upon the ruined desk.  “Of course it’s your day!”  Her mother’s words weighing lighter with laughter, “Not every day my daughter becomes the Pathfinder.”  “-A- Pathfinder, mother.  One of the many, among the Hanar, the Drell, Elcor, the Volus!  If I am a Pathfinder, I am one by committee.”

With the help of a gnarled staff, she stands up, hobbling towards Sole.  She takes her daughter’s chin in her hand, examining her carefully, “you know, these markings suit you, child,” Zaele chuckles.  “If I were not your mother,” she started, bringing a cloth to her daughter’s nose, “I’d take some ink myself, and follow your lead as a proud Quarian, because you are the Pathfinder,” she said tenderly before adding, “fortunately, I -am- your mother.” A shuddering groan escaped from Sole’Sor’s lips, “yes, and for that, I am eternally grateful.  How long until we reach the Human city? Haven’s End?”

“Our scryers say we shall reach it within the day.  Why don’t you rest, have some tea? Tea will calm your nerves.”  “I’ve had my fill of tea,” Sole mumbled as she gathered her hood and scarf, nearly knocking her head upon a hanging lamp,“I need fresh air.”  She took her leave, but not before affixing a lacquered mask upon her face.  Outside of the wheelhouse, a dull sun greeted Sole, peeking lazily behind rolling clouds. It shone on a long snaking caravan, its wagons wrapped in vibrant canvases of purples and golds.  The smell of pine filtered into the air holes of her mask.

“Pathfinder!”  One of the outriders half-saluted, half-greeted her.  “Pathfinder,” greeted the caravan master.  The title still rings uncomfortably upon her ears, but she returns their greetings in kind.  “How goes it, kinsmen?”  The caravan master smiles, more so from his eyes with his mouth hidden, “the road grows shorter, Haven’s End nears, and our new home soon after.”  “Haven’s End?” Cried the outrider, “humans have such dour taste in names. Remember Maiden’s Tear? And the town before that, what was it called? Grim-something-or-other, yes?”

Sole liked Jeer’Teela. He wore a crooked smile on his mask and a spear and shield slung on his back. If she could have a brother, it would be Jeer.  He’d talk tactics with Turians, discuss politics with Asari, even wrestle a few Krogan; if he ever came out worse for wear he never showed it.  “I’m sure it’s much nicer than it sounds,” Sole assured him.  Blustering, Jeer mirrored his exhausted courser as the caravan reached the gates of Haven’s End.

The city greeted their caravan like a disturbed cat, freshly woken from its nap.  It boasted a massive harbor, a thriving fishing community, and, much to Sole’s surprise, looked a lot nicer than the name let on.  Banners for the Initiative hung proudly in the streets, the face of a noblewoman, the Lady Garson, beautifully painted upon them.  Merchants, children, city guard whatever they were doing they stopped to marvel at the makeshift procession of the Sunrunner caravan as it negotiated the tight streets towards the plaza.  Each step they took they gained more followers until as the city folk dropped what they were doing to join their new arrivals.

A towering stone building stretched out before them, its glass stained, with columns carved in the likeness of explorers, scientists, and freethinkers. On the stone steps gathered a cluster of what Sole’Sor could only assume were the ruling council of the city.  For a human city, it was surprising to see such diversity in their rulers, This cannot be coincidence, he thought.  They wore silks and satin, save for one human.  At the center stood Lady Garson, a vision clad in form fitting leathers of dark grays and light blues. 

Jeer let out a low whistle, which was promptly silenced by Sole’s elbow. Stifling a chuckle, the Lady Garson cleared her throat. “The Initiative welcomes you, Sunrunners of the Migrant Caravan. Pathfinder Sole’Sor Vas Keelah Se’lai, place your people’s standard among our own to show that we are of one spirit,” she motioned to the display of banners arrayed before them. Sole grabbed their banner from the caravan master, a sun masked in runes basking in a purple sky over shifting dunes.  She hopped off the wagon placing their banner next to the Great Wheel of the Salarians and the wreathed eagle of the Turians.

The Lady Garson stepped down towards Sole, towering over her, more so than most humans.  Sole blinked nervously as Lady Garson cupped her masked face in her hands and smiled, “Welcome, sister,” she said, before embracing the Initiatives newest Pathfinder.  At that, the plaza erupted in deafening cheers.  It was enough to make Sole weep, _no wonder they flock to her,_ she thought, _she holds such sway, how can one refuse what she has to offer?  This woman, who could captivate the very stars into doing her bidding!_ It was sorcery, pure and simple.

“No tears, sister. This is a proud day for you and yours, as well as ourselves.” She turned presenting her towards the crowd, clasping Sole’s shoulder under her arm.  “Come now, we dare not waste another moment, we must take you to see Sir Ryder.”  She guided Sole, hand in hand into the city’s hall, her retinue of council members followed suit before dispersing throughout the hall.  The cheering masses grew silent behind heavy oak doors, banded in iron.  Dancing light flickered through the stained glass, dressed in vibrant rainbow colored hues.

Sole followed Lady Garson into a labyrinthine span of ember-lit hallways and passages until they stopped before a sturdy vault door.  The human tapped the door, causing its inner machinations to spring to life as the entryway opened with a rumble.  Inside the very air crackled with energy as the marvels of human magic stretched out before her eyes.  Stone, wood, and metal all moved on its own accord, with the faintest of aid from the aether.  Multicolored liquid surged through snaking tubes that filtered through this device or that processor.  Never before had Sole’Sor been treated to such an alien display.

At the center of this dizzying orchestra stood a graying man, well-built, with his shoulders hunched over a tidy workbench.  “Lady Garson,” he bowed curtly, “and this must be our newest Pathfinder.  Welcome to the Initiative. Sir Alec Ryder.”  He removed a glove before extending his hand which Sole grabbed absentmindedly. “Sole’Sor Vas Keelah Se’lai,” she introduced herself, half-dazed, “your workspace is… impressive.  How is any of this possible?” Sir Ryder smiled broadly, “human engineering, and plenty of coffee.  Think of it as a more physical form of magic.  Where true magic utilizes small tangible components to create grand spell effects this magic focuses on the physical to create spells on a smaller, yet still fantastic, scale.”

“I can see that,” Sole marveled, “there are magics in this room… just different.”  “While Sir Ryder was not responsible for the invention of this craft, his manner of perfecting it was why he was chosen as the human Pathfinder,” Jien clarified.  “Among other things,” Alec added, arms folded.  “It’s safe to say that without his ingenuity the Initiative wouldn’t have been possible.”  “The Lady is too kind, for without her vision what you see before you are nothing more than the tinkerings of an old madman.”

 _Touching,_ Sole thought, _to see such camaraderie between colleagues._ “Now,” Alec began, “you would be foolish to believe that we plan to sail to Andromeda on human engineering alone.  As this is our civilization's greatest undertaking we have utilized practices and crafts from every nation.”  Sole could sense where this was going, “Keelah, you didn’t…”  “-It’s not like that, sister.” “Golemancy!?! We lost our home to golemancy! Our seat on the Citadel’s Council.”  Sole’Sor fumed, “we walk. Aimless, masked and shamed.  Did our loss teach you nothing?”

What escaped Alec’s lips was equal parts rasp and whisper.  “It did.  I studied your people’s histories, spoke with Quarian mages.  If you will allow me, I’d like to show you how my solution took your sacrifices and learned from them.” Sole bit her lip, it’s moments like this where she was glad to wear a mask, lest she reveal herself.  There was much to be said about the gall of Humans. “Please understand, if there is something more desired than a home of our own, I wouldn’t know it.  Every Quarian dreams of home.  To have our most treasured dream threatened by the ghosts of our past… Please tread lightly, Sir, though I’m grateful for this chance I will not hesitate to turn our caravan around.”

“I will honor your wishes… Pathfinder.”  Alec set to his demonstration, he pulled out a leather gauntlet, emblazoned with runes.  Sole recognized those runes, even in their altered state, like long lost friends.  “Using soul-forges to bring life to your golems was an inspired endeavor, as was parceling out the artificial souls into soul fragments.  But with each newly forged fragment, the golems grew closer to life as we know it, closer to questioning why such limits were placed on them in the first place.  I removed the physical platform, going against my entire school of thought, and in doing so created harmony: a bond between our soul and the artificial.”  

A pulse from his gauntlet materialized a bright blue ball of flame in the palm of his hand.  “There is no creation to rebel against its creator, no limits to be questioned, only two beings made stronger together.”  Two luminous beads of piercing, white light blinked to life in the fire, “meet the Surveyor’s Arcane Mote or SAM for short.  This one is yours, actually.”  He tossed the fire at Sole who caught it gingerly in her hand. No sooner than when she caught it that the fire dissipated, leaving smoke trails on her three fingertips.

“Well, go on! Try calling it,” Jien urged.  Had it not been for the excitement bubbling in Lady Garson’s eyes, Sole might have given the request a second thought.  “... How?”  Alec smiled, “It’s no different than calling a dog or varren.”  Sole imagined how one would call their dog and clicked her tongue.  The flame returned, this time purple, its eyes two flecks of gold, “... Pathfinder?” A voice, calm and ethereal entered her mind.  “Color me flattered,” she remarked, “what do I do with this?”  “You learn. Together. It learns from you, you learn from it.  SAM will help us adapt to whatever hardships the new realm will throw at us faster than the traditional way.  Tell me, if you had the chance to ensure that more of your kinsmen are able to see their new home, would you take it?”

Unblinking eyes stared at Sole, first SAM’s, then Alec’s, then Jien’s.  “I must think on this.”  “Take some time,” offered Lady Garson, “this position was offered to you, like any gift it is within your power to refuse.  Give it some thought,” a sincere plea.  “Until we meet again, Sole’Sor,” bid Sir Ryder.  Together they walked to the main entrance, leaving Alec to his work.  Sole felt as if she were walking in a dream.   _This goes against everything my people stand for,_ she mused.   _I am sorry my presence offends you so, Pathfinder._  She nearly jumped out of her skin.   _I forgot you were in here._ If Lady Garson knew the two of them were communicating she didn’t let it show as she wished Sole well, venturing into the heart of Haven’s End.

 _I thought it best that I stay in the secrecy of your thoughts given your initial reaction._ Puzzled, she thought, _you mean Sir Ryder thought it best? Unfortunately not, Pathfinder, my thoughts, though guided by the spiritual imprint provided by Sir Ryder, are my own._ That sent Sole reeling, instantly she recalled the stories passed down by her elders of how their world turned upside down when a golem of their own asked if it was alive.   _If you are worried about history repeating itself it should comfort you to know that one: I have no arms to raise against you should I find the will to revolt, and two: there is no question that I am -very- much alive._ Sole’s blood ran cold, _A joke, Pathfinder, Sir Ryder emphasized the importance of humor._

Night came swiftly and suddenly over Haven’s End, the streets were teeming with life.  Guards patrolled the streets, Salarian puppeteers and Asari bards practiced their craft for coin to drop in their hats, mercenaries swaggered and sailors scuttled.  She reached the caravan with relative ease, it circled in around itself with the outer wagons serving as merchant stalls while the innermost wagons held families, cooks, and storytellers. She found Jeer, arms folded around the spear that rested on his shoulders.  “Well if it isn’t the Pathfinder?”  What laughter painted his voice soon drained as Sole walked passed him towards her wheelhouse.  “Something troubles you, Sole?”  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Jeer.”


End file.
